A/N: Okay first of all guys, I'm really sorry I'm posting this late. I've been real busy, but I know that's no excuse. Then again, I was a little disappointed with the number of reviews last chapter, so I'd say we're even. Maybe you guys are losing interest, I don't know. If that's the case let me know and I'll try to amp things up a bit. In the meantime, here's a little Max chapter to whet your appetite. In case you don't get it, it's going on simultaneously with the end of the previous chapter. Next chapter we will join back up with Fang and I promise, it will be longer and some questions will be answered.

Also, I still do not own Maximum Ride. More's the pity.


Max (2014)

Pain in my wing woke me.

I had been completely asleep, deep in a dream. One of those dreams that seem so real, you're not sure if you're asleep or awake. I was in a dark cabin… I could see pine trees and mountains out the window. And…someone was there… in the shadow. Dark bangs covered his eyes, his dark clothes made him seem a part of the shadows.

And then a sharp pain shot through my wing so suddenly I jerked upright with a gasp.

Iggy, who had been keeping watch, spun toward me with a curse. "Jeez, Max. You scared the hell out of me."

I was out of breath, gasping for air, my wing still tingled with pain. I stretched it forward, felt along the fragile bones. My fingers could feel the feathers, but I couldn't feel my wing. It tingled as I felt my heart racing.

"Max?" Iggy asked, "You okay?"

"Yeah, Ig," I said, feeling a little disoriented, "I- I must have slept on my wing wrong. It's… weird."

I poked it again, and this time I felt it. In my wing, I mean.

"Max?" Dylan sat up, looking at me all concerned, "What's wrong?"

"She had a bad dream or something. Slept on her wing wrong," Iggy answered for me.

Dylan looked at me closer, and I looked away from him.

"I'm fine," I muttered. I relaxed my wing, and it seemed to droop toward the ground. The blood rushing back into it seemed to be coming from my stomach, which was rolling nauseatingly.

"You look a little pale," Dylan pointed out.

"Same as always to me," Iggy remarked.

"I'm rolling my eyes, Ig," I told him, picking my wing back up gingerly.

"Why don't you get some sleep, Iggy? I'll stay up with her and take the next watch," Dylan said, oh so graciously.

"Don't need to ask me twice," Iggy laid down with his back to the fire- and us.

Dylan stood up and came over to sit next to me. I squirmed a little, putting some distance between us.

He noticed.

"I'm not going to bite, you know."

"It's not biting I'm worried about," I told him sharply.

He shook his head and sighed.

"How's your wing?"

"Fine." It wasn't. It still tingled and ached.

He looked doubtful. He twisted toward me. "Let me see."

I glared at him. "I said it's fine."

"Great, then you won't mind if I look at it."

He glared right back at me, holding my gaze until I gave up with a sigh and stretched out my wings toward him.

"This one?" he asked, touching my feathers lightly.

"Mm-hmm," I managed to convey how unhappy I was with him all in those two syllables. Yep, I'm that good.

His fingers weaved through my feathers delicately, working feeling back into my wing. Then he stroked the feathers back down, one by one, until they were lying flat and sleek.

Despite myself, it felt better. I felt my heart slow down, my breathing deepen. I started to drift off a bit.

"So what was your dream about?" he asked, his fingers still stroking my wings.

My eyes opened again, the remnants of my dream coming back to my mind.

"I don't really see how it's any of your business."

"I didn't say it was," he said, his tone exasperated, "It wasn't for my benefit. I've heard it helps to talk it out. But suit yourself."

His tone sounded nonchalant, but I could tell he was worried.

"It was about Fang, if you must know," I said smugly, wielding his name like a weapon.

It worked. His hands stopped. I slumped with disappointment.

He cleared his throat. "And?"

"He was in a cabin. I don't know where. Somewhere with mountains. And then I woke up."

He snorted. "Doesn't sound that bad to me. He's living in a mountain cabin somewhere and we're a day away from the center of the United States government about to embark on an arduous mission to save the world. Again."

"Yeah…" I trailed off.

His concern for me won over his disdain for Fang, "What?" he asked begrudgingly.

I didn't really want to talk to him about Fang. But really, who else could I talk to?

"It's just… I don't know, at the end, if that pain in my wing was mine, or his."

He didn't say anything for a while. Finally, I turned to look at him. I was shocked to see he looked angry.

"What?" I asked.

He shook his head. His hand reached out to my wing again, brushing my feathers lightly.

"I don't like that he still hurts you," he admitted.

He met my eyes, and I could tell what he meant, even though he didn't say it.

I would never hurt you like he did.

But then, I never would have believed that Fang would either, until it was too late.

That was the problem. You can never really trust someone with your heart.

It was a mistake I wasn't planning on making again anytime soon.

I looked away from him and pulled my wings back in, closing them tight against me.

"You better get some sleep," he suggested, turning to face the others, all sleeping in a circle, "Tomorrow we arrive in D.C. And then we'll see what we'll see."


A/N: Again, let me know what you think. Even if you think your opinion doesn't matter- trust me, it does. I'd love to hear back from you guys. I will really try my best to put another chapter up tomorrow, but no promises. I do have homework to do, papers to write, and finals to study for. Don't worry though, I don't have much of a social life to worry about. :) Thanks for reading!